


Piano Forte

by garrideb



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Classical Music, Exhibitionism, Multi, Piano, Pre-Canon, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-18
Updated: 2011-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:58:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garrideb/pseuds/garrideb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-series.  Julie doesn't like House, but she tolerates him for James's sake.  She never imagined she'd have sex with James while House was in the same room, but life is full of surprises.  Written: 9/2006</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piano Forte

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to fanfiction.net [here](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1133726/Garrideb).

Julie took a moment to compose herself in the kitchen. After entertaining half a dozen dinner guests, she wanted nothing more than to clean up the dishes and spend the rest of the night quietly with James. That shouldn’t have been a problem, because all of Julie’s friends knew when a guest became an imposition, and thus had left almost two hours ago.

If the guests had only been _her_ friends, she would be alone with her fiancé right now. But, in a move that had seemed fair at the time, though she was now regretting it, Julie had insisted that James invite a friend, too.

Of course, she’d known it would be Dr. House. She had hoped that maybe – just maybe – James would invite a different collogue. He had a whole department of oncologists who could appreciate her cooking and a fine wine better than Dr. House. And unlike Dr. House, James actually got along with his staff and peers. There was no reason that the caustic diagnostician should be the only man her fiancé spent time with.

She could hear Dr. House speaking and a moment later, James laughing. Trying on a smile of her own – strained as it was – Julie smoothed down her dress and glanced around the room. She caught sight of the half-full bottle of Herzog Syrah and decided it would make as good a prop as any. She only had to play hostess a little longer, and then she and James could relax.

Grabbing three fresh wineglasses, Julie uncorked the bottle and poured. She filled her own glass much higher than the other two, and then quickly drank the difference. She could feel the wine warming her body even as she left the room.

Julie expected to see the two men where she had left them - side by side on the couch - so she was surprised to find House now perched on the piano bench. He was staring at the keys as if they were the pieces to a favorite jigsaw puzzle. Julie walked over to him and set a coaster and his glass on the top of the piano. He didn’t even look up at her, and Julie threw an annoyed look at her fiancé.

James didn’t seem to notice, so she took a calming breath. “Do you play?” She asked her guest.

For a moment she was sure he was going to ignore her again. But House finally answered, though his eyes remained fixed on the keyboard. “On occasion,” he said.

“Quit being modest.” James said, grinning. “He’s a genius on that thing, Julie. You should hear him.”

“Not genius. At most, I’m highly gifted. I don’t get enough time to practice. Do you think Cuddy would mind if I put a piano in my office?”

“Nah, Cuddy is on the other side of the hospital. Now, Dr. Conner across the hall- he’d mind.”

Julie placed the remaining two wine glasses on the coffee table and sank down onto the couch next to James. A few random notes floated from the piano, then stopped as House twisted around on the bench. He regarded James with a raised eyebrow, to which James smirked and shook his head. House rolled his eyes.

Butterflies filled her stomach as she watched the silent exchange. Every time she saw them together she saw this. She couldn’t explain why it made her nervous, but she knew why it gave her hope. _In a few years_ , she thought with a soft rush of happiness, _James and I will speak without words, too._

House’s gaze flickered to her and back to her fiancé, and this time James answered the unspoken question. “She likes Moonlight Sonata.” He said, turning to look at her fondly.

“Of course she likes Moonlight Sonata.” House muttered, but he placed his hands over the keys and began the flowing music.

Within the first few bars, Julie’s breath was taken away. She had heard this piece played so many times, and it was hard to pinpoint what House put into it that made her heart beat faster. Each note was slow and deliberate, so that every pause was perfectly formed and just as rich as the notes. The deep melodic sound crept around her like a fog that slowly filled the room.

James’s eyes were closed, a smile playing on his lips. With his head tipped back he looked younger and happier than he had all night. As the next wave of music washed over them, a little stronger than before, Julie couldn’t help thinking of the way a pebble’s colors became brilliant under the water of a stream.

The slow melody made the minutes stretch. In the dim living room, Julie toed off her shoes and drew her feet up onto the couch. The extra wine she had drank was finally doing it’s job, so she let go of the evening’s stress and closed her eyes, too.

She opened them after the last notes had faded. She could see House’s profile bent over the keys, hands still resting in position. “You play beautifully.” She said. It was the first honest compliment she had ever given the man, and the sardonic smile he gave her told her that he knew it. The smile on James’s face was a different story; he was looking as if he’d just witnessed a treaty between warring nations, and she was reminded yet again how important House was to her fiancé.

Sudden uneasiness warned her against letting the moment drag on. “Are you still taking requests?” She asked lightly.

Their guest launched into Turkish Rondo at her suggestion. James scooted closer to her and coaxed her to lean against him – a move she felt was too casual and intimate for a dinner party, even with only one guest left. But House’s opinion of her had never really mattered to her from the first moment she realized she disliked him, and she doubted that the diagnostician held etiquette in any regard, so she let James pull her close.

Despite everything she wanted to feel- everything she had felt not fifteen minutes ago- the moment was nice. She reached to the coffee table and picked up her wineglass. As she polished of her drink she almost laughed at a thought: if House kept his mouth shut and played their piano like he was doing now, she might actually like having him over.

James must have caught her amused expression because he squeezed her arm affectionately. With her head resting on his shoulder, she was able to hear him even when his voice was softer than the pianissimo notes. “Tonight was perfect, honey. No one can host a shindig like you can.”

"Shindig?" She tilted her head and looked at him quizzically. He laughed and kissed the edge of her forehead.

The music morphed seamlessly from the lively Mozart piece to something lighter and smoother. Berceuse in D flat major, Julie recognized. It was one of James’s favorites. When he had discovered that she played, it was one of the first pieces he had asked her to perform for him. It hadn’t been long ago, but it felt like forever. She had already started to fall for him, but on that sunny October day she hadn’t known. She hadn’t even guessed that he was the one.

She didn’t play often. She had stopped all serious practice after her first year of college, but she always liked having a piano nearby if the mood struck her. James wasn’t a musician in any sense, but his appreciation of piano music made up for it.

With another soft tug her fiancé pulled her closer. He had shifted so that he was leaning against the arm of the sofa rather than the back, so now she was facing him. He trailed his left hand down the side of her face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She knew he was going to kiss her just by looking into his warm brown eyes.

Normally she would have met his lips halfway, but now she ducked her head slightly so that the kiss landed to the side of her mouth. “James…” She protested in a whisper.

“I love you. Is that a crime?” He chided. When he leaned in again she let him have his kiss, deep and slow. When they parted he had his arms around her and the flush that tinted her skin was from more than just the syrah. James’s eyes were darker now; the result of dilated pupils. “Have I told you how beautiful you are today?”

He had; much earlier that evening when they were in their bedroom. She had been putting on her favorite pair of pearl earrings, and he had been sitting on the bed, teasing her about her nervous energy in one breath and calming her with kind words in the next.

“All night I wanted them to leave so I could kiss you.” He said, leaning in again to do just that. Her backless dress allowed his hands to press into the skin of her nape and shoulder blades, movements too rough to be called caresses. He was grasping her, trying to touch as much of her as he could. His hands were burning into her skin and the fire was contagious. She could feel the burning travel down her body like swallowed lava. Grabbing the back of his dress shirt she tugged it free, and then slid her hands underneath. When she dug her fingernails into his skin, he moaned.

Ever so slightly, the music faltered. Julie looked sharply to the side, but House was still watching the keys. She didn’t recognize the music anymore; it was a very deep and slow melody. The swells of notes were like the press of James’s hands, strong and incessant.

She dropped her hands and pulled back. “James, stop.” She breathed.

“Please.” He countered, his voice just as raw.

Julie glanced to the side again, watching as their guest concentrated completely on the instrument he was playing. She felt James move his assault to her exposed neck, giving her vampirical little kisses that were breaking her resolve. “No...”

“Julie…” She could feel her name against her neck, cold where it landed on her wet skin. She shivered.

He pushed her back, getting his knees under him so he could follow her down into the couch cushions without loosing his grip. Hands slid across the fabric of her dress, but opposite of the compulsive smoothing of wrinkles, these were sliding her dress up her thighs and over her hips, gathering in soft folds around her waist. With one arm braced against the couch and the other under her, James lifted her hips and worked her underwear down.

The nervousness was alien. She had always felt safe with James; always comfortable. Now she felt anger and trepidation stirred in with her arousal. Her hands shook as she undid his fly.

The music was faster; louder. It was just a little discordant.

They normally used lube, so Julie winced as James thrust in much harder than usual to get past the resistance of her body. His hands clenched her hips, still burning her, the firing of nerve endings ultimately deciding that this was a good fire. She squirmed beneath him, fanning the flames.

“Oh God,” James breathed.

Fortissimo. House was playing at a volume that reminded Julie why it was originally called a piano-forte. From the corner of her vision she could see the doctor’s hands flying across the board. The sensations entwined until it was unclear if the music was in fact coming from her own hands – desperately roaming James’s body – or if the press of House’s fingers on the keys was what evoked the gasps and moans from her fiancé. Beautiful instruments, passionately played. Julie met James thrust for thrust, letting her head tilt back into the cushions.

When she was close to climax she grabbed James’s hips and pulled him closer, breaking his rhythm and keeping him trapped flush against her body. He made a small, frustrated noise as Julie guided his hips into a new pattern – a swiveling motion that pushed her even higher. His own progress hindered, James let his head fall to her shoulder. She could feel how damp his hair was and how hard he was breathing against her neck.

She turned her head to let James rest his cheek against hers, and suddenly froze. Although the music never faltered, the musician was no longer watching the keys. Bright blue eyes met her own briefly and then moved on without showing a hint of shame. He didn’t glance back at her again.

Moments from orgasm all she could do was wonder why James couldn’t feel that cold, inscrutable gaze. House never took his eyes off of James, taking in every detail of what unrestrained lust looked like on his only friend. The way James’s fingers clenched, the way his skin flushed, the way his lips parted and the way he twisted to find the best leverage, the best angle. The music built up so loud she could feel it vibrate all the way through her body. It was as piercing as House’s eyes as he took in the way James looked when he pushed her over the edge, and finally, the way he looked when he came too – with an inarticulate cry that was absorbed completely by the music.

* * *

A month or so before the wedding, James warned her that House didn’t do wedding gifts. That was fine by her, especially as she couldn’t imagine the man giving anything even remotely tasteful.

She hadn’t wanted him there at all, but of course she knew better than to say this to James. House would probably embarrass her a little and give a toast that only James found funny, but that was better than starting her marriage off on a bitter fight about friendship. So she endured his rude behavior and wasn’t bothered in the slightest when none of the gifts bore his name.

That was why she was so surprised when she did receive a gift from him nearly a week later. She found it by the front door when she stepped outside at noon to get the mail. It was wrapped in white paper with the barest outlines of roses in silver. A small tag had her name and House’s written in his careful cursive lettering. She noticed immediately that he had only addressed it to her.

Inside was an expensive leather folder, closed with a gold latch. She carefully opened it, and then stared silently at her belated wedding gift.

It was sheet music, neat and precise but obviously handmade. There was no composer’s name at the top, but there was a title – ‘James’. Her eyes wandered over the bars, and she recognized the music instantly. It was impossible to forget, after all, even if James acted as if it had never happened and she had followed suit.

Julie placed the folder on the music stand above the keys and sat down in front of the piano. She rested her hands in the starting position and stared at the notes until they seemed to dance all over the page. It was a complicated piece and Julie knew after a few moments that she wouldn’t be able to play it. She shut the folder softly and started looking for a hiding place where James’s wouldn’t find it.


End file.
